


Yearning and Anticipation

by fineandwittie



Series: Deliver Us Lord [3]
Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: I'll get there, M/M, They still haven't touched each other tho, give me time, this one has sex in it! Hah!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:55:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29769633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fineandwittie/pseuds/fineandwittie
Summary: Uhtred did ride to Alfred after the battle at Cynuit.
Relationships: Alfred the Great/Uhtred of Bebbanburg
Series: Deliver Us Lord [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2181759
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> unebta'd. unproofread.

His conversation with Father Beocca seemed to have burrowed its way under his skin. It refused to be forgotten. So preoccupied was he that Alfred found himself dreaming of Uhtred. He woke either hard and wanting or sticky and nauseous. He had never had such dreams before, soaked equally in terror and desire. He was immensely thankful that he and Aelswith did not share quarters. 

In his waking hours, his mind often drifted to Uhtred as well. With the wracking guilt of his desire somewhat abated, there was room for a heavy swell of fear to rise up in him. Had he sent Uhtred to his death? Had he condemned him? Uhtred had seemed to think it was a death sentence, but Alfred had never intended it to be one. Uhtred was the only one among Alfred’s advisors and ealdormen who could speak the Danish language. Alfred had had absolute faith that Uhtred would escape with his life, even if every other hostage were killed. 

And he’d been right, had he not? Three weeks ago, the beacon had been lit. Uhtred had escaped from the fortress. But where had he gone? Why had he not returned directly to Winchester?

The worry was too late now. They all rode out tomorrow. Alfred only prayed that the dreams would dissipate before they made their first camp or that he’d be too tired from the journey to dream at all. 

____________________________

The spirit in camp was high on that day Uhtred rode in. The men still believed in the cause and in Alfred. Hope and God were both on their side, as there had been no word of Ubba joining Guthrum’s army.

Alfred had been breaking his fast with Father Beocca when the cry went up. They’d shared a look, Beocca’s turning pointed, before exiting together.

Uhtred had yet to even dismount his horse when he called, “King Alfred of Wessex, the Danes have been defeated at Cynuit. Ubba is dead.”

Alfred’s eyes went wide and his breath stuttered in his chest. This was by no means what he’d expected Uhtred to say. He hadn’t actually comprehended that Uhtred was alive, was here before him. The world around him blurred, Uhtred himself the only fixed point.

“Is it true? You have been at Cynuit?” Alfred barely recognized his own urgent voice.

Uhtred dismounted with a flourish. “Yes, Lord. I have just come from the Elder Odda. Leofric is not far behind.”

“And you know Ubba to be dead?” Alfred asked, coming forward as though drawn.

Uhtred smiled wide, like a cat warmed by the sun. “I killed Ubba myself, Lord. Man to man. I ran him through with my sword.”

Alfred couldn’t stifled the laugh that bubbled up out of his throat. He reached up and wrapped his hand over the back of Uhtred’s neck, gripping tight. “Then you have saved Wessex, Uhtred. England is saved.” 

Uhtred’s grin was just as fierce as Alfred’s. “Lord, Ubba’s men were all killed or taken prisoner.”

Alfred nodded and forced himself to release Uhtred, to step back. “Excellent. Come, you must tell me all. Father Beocca, will you have someone bring him food and ale? And see to his horse?”

Alfred hardly bothered to see the priest’s nod, before he reached for Uhtred again. A hand on his far shoulder, arm across his back, to urge him forward into Alfred’s tent to the table where he’d been eating. He did not see Beocca raise his eyes to the heavens in a clear plea for strength.

“You said man to man. Why would you have challenged Ubba in that way, Uhtred?” Alfred asked as they sat opposite each other at the table.

Uhtred shrugged. “No choice, Lord. I snuck into their camp in the night to fire their ships. We were trapped at the top of a hill and could not overpower their numbers, but with the ships burning, I knew that they would be disorganized and frantic. Ubba spotted me before I could escape back into the trees. I goaded him and he challenged me to combat. We fought. I sent him to Valhalla. Odda’s men arrived just in time to save me from having to fight all of Ubba’s men.” His grin widened, fierce and blood thirsty. “Odda’s men will arrive within the week, Lord. We lost few. Guthrum will be forced to surrender.”

Alfred exhaled, long and slow. “You have truly saved a thousand lives, Uhtred, and perhaps all of Wessex. It is good to have you back here once again. I had feared that…well, there was no sign of you once the beacon had been lit.”

Uhtred’s expression lost some of its edge, softened into teasing. “Did you miss me, Lord?”

Alfred, feeling unlike himself, subsumed by a feeling of floating on the elation of the moment, smiled. “Yes, Uhtred. I find that I did miss you.”

Uhtred blinked and his teasing grin faltered, some fragile thing beyond peaking through. “That…is good to hear from you, Lord.”

Father Beocca cleared his throat somewhere over Alfred’s shoulder, breaking the moment. “Lord, Uhtred.” He nodded to both as he appeared at Alfred’s side. “Uhtred, I’ve got food and ale coming.”

Uhtred smiled up at him. “Thank you, Beocca.”

There was a moment of stillness as Alfred watched Uhtred’s face as Uhtred and Beocca examined one another. 

“I see you appear none the worse for wear after your…adventures.” Beocca smiled, indulgent, and sat when Alfred gestured him to the table.

“I got worse from the fight with Ubba than I did from the Danes at the fortress. Although, you should know,” He turned to Alfred, catching him by surprise. “My brother Earl Ragnar is there with Guthrum, but they are not the easiest of companions. I do not know what divides them.”

“Interesting food for thought, though how important it will be is yet to be seen. I expect, with your victory at Cynuit, we will be taking most of them as prisoners anyway.”

“Ragnar saved me from slaughter when they killed the other hostages. If possible, I would return the favor.” Uhtred said, more question than statement. 

“Oh, none of them will be killed unnecessarily. Your brother will be treated well, if he still numbers among them.” Alfred tapped a finger against the tabletop, restless after the flood of adrenaline that Uhtred’s appearance had caused.

“Thank you, Lord.” Uhtred’s voice was soft, intimate.

Father Beocca shifted in his seat. “Shall I set Uhtred up with a tent, Lord? I am sure, after the battle and the quick journey, he is tired.”

Uhtred tilted his head, eyes narrowing, but did not argue. Alfred nodded, a quick twist of his mouth directed at Beocca, before his expression turned placid. “Indeed. Go. Rest well. Find me when you are refreshed. I would…I would hear more of the battle with Cynuit.”

Uhtred nodded and rose to follow Beocca out of the tent. Alfred sat, perfectly still, and measured his breathing for several long minutes afterward. Uhtred was here, safe, alive, and victorious. He had saved them all by the strength of his blade and the sharpness of his mind, for Alfred had no doubt that it was Uhtred who had devised the plan. The Elder Odda was no strategist and the Young Odda was a coward. Leofric, the only other who might have suggested it, was not quite so ruthless, especially not where Uhtred was concerned. The man had a soft spot for the young warrior that was obvious to everyone, but perhaps Uhtred himself. 

Alfred sighed finally and stood from the table. He would lead Uhtred away from the camp a ways and test the edges of his interest. Beocca seemed to think that Uhtred would be willing, if his warnings of adultery were quite as sincere as they seemed. 

Perhaps, Alfred wasn’t as alone in this as he had believed.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn’t until nearly dusk that Uhtred found Alfred again. He was speaking with several of his commanders in the gathering gloom, but upon spotting Uhtred’s figure cutting through the maze of soldiers around them, he dismissed them.

Uhtred came right up to his side with a little tilt of his head. “Lord, you wished to speak with me further?”

“Yes, Uhtred.” Alfred gestured for Uhtred to follow and then turned to head out of camp with a purposeful stride. 

Uhtred fell into step with him in silence. When they had distanced themselves enough from the camp to be seen but not heard, Alfred stopped and turned to Uhtred. He examined the man’s face, the healing cuts across his cheekbone, the scar near his temple.

Uhtred tilted his head and looked back, steady and curious. “Lord, I do not think that you have more interest in the battle. There is no need for privacy in talk of war. What is it you would ask of me?”

Alfred exhaled a huff a breath, nearly a laugh, and smiled a little. “Always cleverer than I expect. Father Beocca has mentioned to me…a Danish cultural practice that I wish to understand. You are, as always, the best and only source of information.”

Uhtred snorted, but nodded. “I will try and answer your question then, Lord.”

Alfred paused, his hands flexing in each other’s grip. “It is perhaps too delicate to speak of.”

Uhtred frowned. “I do not understand, Lord. Is it some…intimate thing? What difference would there be in that?”

Alfred took a breath before exhaling his doubt. He would speak his piece and then he would be able to put this beast to rest. The uncertainty, the longing, would otherwise be his undoing. “Beocca claims that Danish warriors commonly…hump other warriors, regardless of sex.”

Uhtred’s eyebrow shot up and his lips parted on a breath. They stood together, staring at one another, for a single frozen moment, before Uhtred broken the stillness. “Yes, Lord. That is a common enough practice. Intimate bonds are more freely formed among the Danes, with no worry to what might be sinful.”

There was no disgust or condemnation in his voice or in his face. Alfred felt emboldened by this, thought nerves still twisted his guts and sung along his skin. “And you, Uhtred? What are your thoughts on the practice?”

Uhtred’s eyelids fluttered before snapping back open. He stared at Alfred for a moment. “If I answer that question truthfully, Lord, what guarantee do I have that there is not a priest waiting to condemn me for my most grievous sin and have me hanged? I have seen it done for that and less.”

Alfred’s breath stuttered. Uhtred had as good as admitted to humping men. Beocca had been right, although it did not prove that Uhtred would wish to lay with Alfred himself. 

Alfred swallowed passed a dry throat. “Father Beocca claims that it is not so much of a sin as some would believe. Personally, I do not believe, even if it is a sin, that it would be one worth a hanging. But I swear to you, that if you answer me truthfully, there will be no legal consequence and I will not share your answer with another soul.”

Uhtred exhaled a shaky breath and nodded. “I have practiced it myself, Lord. It is…merely another form of loving. Enjoyable when done properly. Why do you ask, Lord?”

It was time for Alfred to gather all the courage he had ever believed himself to have. It was time for him to speak his truth. “I am…plagued by dreams, Uhtred.” The man’s eyes went wide, his pupils blowing out abruptly to swallow the blue. Alfred swallowed again, this time because saliva had begun to pool in his mouth. “I find myself distracted, which is a dangerous thing in times of war, a dangerous thing for a king at all.”

The hunger that had been building in Uhtred’s eyes drained suddenly away and he stepped back, his face going hard. “So you seek me out, to test your desire on, because…why? Because I am a pagan and therefore to be used for your pleasure? Because I am little more than a slave, sworn as I am into your service? Because no one would believe me should I tell a soul of your behavior?” Uhtred’s voice grew harsher as he spoke, rage filling out its edges. Beyond the rage, though, Alfred could hear pain and grief, could see them reflected in the line of Uhtred’s shoulders and the clench of his jaw.

Alfred smiled, a tense and hollow thing, and his heart twisted in his chest. His entire body hurt, so much worse than the pain of his ailment. “I free you from your oaths of service. You may stay or go as you please. I will not hold you here against your will, especially not now when you have saved us all. Especially not after the truth that I have forced on you. You have my apologies for the clearly unwanted attention. But…please know that I sought you out because it is you that I dream about. I would _never_ force such a thing on anyone, Christian or pagan, and certainly not you, who are dear to me. I simply…Father Beocca seemed to think that you might…share in my feelings, but as that is not the case, I will never speak of it again. I never meant to hurt you.”

Alfred turned, intending to head back to the camp, but Uhtred’s hand shot out and claimed his wrist. Alfred froze for a long moment, before shooting a quick glance across the camp to ensure that no one had seen Uhtred take such a liberty. His chest felt cold. He wondered what more Uhtred could possibly wish him to say.

When he turned back, Uhtred dropped his hand. “Lord…Alfred, you get ahead of yourself. Beocca was not wrong. I have…wanted you since that first day, since the first moment we met. You cut such a slight figure in your grey robes, but your mind is a sharp as any blade and I have always admired a quick wit in those I take to bed. You are handsome, as I’m sure you know. Knowing you has not lessened my desire for you.” Uhtred’s mouth pulled into a smile, but his eyes were flat, serious, still black as pitch. “When I was at the fortress, my brother asked me who you were to me. I do not remember what I said to him. I was half-mad with blood-lust and fear, but whatever it was caused him to claim that I was in love with you.”

Alfred’s entire body flooded with heat. His chest constricted and he lost his breath, but his heart took off at a gallop. Uhtred was in love with him? That had never been even a fantasy of his, never mind a possibility to consider. He was dizzy with it. 

“If you simply wish to hump, Alfred, and feel nothing beyond desire, I…” Uhtred laughed, a small broken thing. “I would like to say that it will be enough. That I would take it because I want it and that I would survive it because I am strong enough. But it would be a lie. It would shatter me more surely than any blow, bleed me more desperately than any blade. And yet, I will do it still.”

Alfred could not stop himself from reaching out for Uhtred. In some small corner of his brain that never allowed him to relax in the company of others, Alfred was aware of the camp, of their visibility from it. Because of this, he diverted his touch to Uhtred’s shoulder from his chest. He dug his fingers deep into the muscle, clinging. “Uhtred, I have loved and despised you since our return from Ashdown. I left you in that dungeon to punish you for how much I wanted to taste your mouth. It was petty and callous and I could not help myself. You bring out both the best and worst of me, Uhtred Ragnarson, and I would have you by my side and in my bed for all the rest of my days.”

Uhtred sagged, swaying forward as though to kiss Alfred, but Alfred stepped back. “When we have returned to Winchester, when we are not under the eye of the entire army of Wessex, I will prove to you the extent of both my desire and my affection. I will take you to bed and you will do to me whatever you wish, show me everything you learned of this Danish practice. And once I have learned it all, I will show you what a good student I am.” Uhtred shivered, his eyes going hooded. Alfred smiled. “When we are back in Winchester, when we are able to put a locked door between us and the rest of Wessex, between us and our wives, I will taste every inch of your flesh. Your mouth shall be my dinner and I shall relish it for hours. Uhtred…my hands itch for you. They ache to rest against your skin, to slip between your thighs and examine what they find.”

“Stop. Gods, Alfred. You must stop.” Alfred’s mouth snapped shut and he went cold again, for the shortest of breaths, until Uhtred continued. “Unless you are willing to let me take you right here in these grasses with the eyes of your camp and of Father Beocca on you, you must stop. I cannot bear it.”

Uhtred shifted on his feet and Alfred because abruptly and viscerally aware that Uhtred was hard in his leathers, his cock pressing out against the seam. Alfred’s mouth watered and he swallowed. “My apologies.” His voice was breathy and soft.

Uhtred groaned, turning away from the camp to press a palm against his crotch. “You are not sorry, Alfred. There is too much glee in your face. You like to torture me. Now you simply have a new way to do it.”

Alfred smirked, his eyes warming with affection. “Perhaps. Shall I keep talking until you spend into your leathers like a boy in his first flush of manhood? Shall I tell you more of the things I dreamed? Shall I tell you of how I have woken, every morning for weeks now, hard and wanting and frustrated, all for lack of you, Uhtred?”

Uhtred groaned again, his palm pressing harder, but did not tell Alfred to stop. 

“Shall I tell you that I touch myself to thoughts of you, of your skin, of your calloused hands, of your arse, which is surely a gift from God? Shall I tell you that the Young Odda once spoke of catching you bathing in the woods, no doubt attempting to discredit you somehow, but all I could do was sit calmly and listen while my body rioted from my control? While I imagined you, naked and glistening wet, vulnerable to my eyes and my hands? That I imagined taking your clothes away while you were bathing and then watching you wander the forest bare, exposed to whoever might approach you? That I wondered if you would be modest, but quickly decided that you would not? Because what do you have to be modest about? You are beautiful and powerful and I am sure that everything beneath those furs and leathers is as lovely as the rest of you. Should I tell you that I _burn_ to touch you, to taste you, to fall to my knees at your feet and wrap my mouth around your cock, just to feel its weight on my tongue?”

Uhtred cried about, soft and helpless, and seemed to fold in on himself for only a moment. Alfred fell silent as he watched, realizing that he had just talked Uhtred into spending. Without a single touch. Simply from the sound of Alfred’s fantasies and the pressure of Uhtred’s palm through his clothing. It was, Alfred thought dazedly, the headiest feeling that he had ever experienced. 

Alfred shivered, curling his hands into fists to prevent himself from doing what Uhtred had. It was unbecoming of a king and there was no guarantee he wouldn’t be seen. He kept his hands at his sides, as far from his aching cock as he could.

Uhtred had straightened again and turned back to look at him. “I will get my revenge for that, Alfred. I have not done such a thing in many years. I had forgotten how immediately uncomfortable it was, once the pleasure had passed.” Uhtred’s smile was rueful and sweet.

Alfred laughed. “Well, I’ll look forward to it,” he said, and turned to head back to camp.


End file.
